


In Your Arms

by manycoloureddays



Series: Ariadne Inc. [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Organized Crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 12:45:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4667007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manycoloureddays/pseuds/manycoloureddays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not the first work related nightmare Clarke's had. But it is the first time she hasn’t been allowed to crawl into bed next to one of her friends in the aftermath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Your Arms

**Author's Note:**

> This happens before the events of Make It Go Boom but it will probably make more sense if you read both.
> 
> As always many many thanks to the wonderful and ever patient Erin ❤️

Clarke wakes in a cold sweat, a scream dying on her lips. She kicks herself free of the sheets, wrapped like manacles around her legs after she attempted to outrun her nightmare. The gunshots and the eerie silence that had followed are still playing on repeat in her head. The mark who’d borne a nightmarish resemblance to Jake Griffin stares blankly at her when she closes her eyes. She takes a few shaky breaths. It’s not the first work related nightmare she’s had, nor is it the first one since the incident in Panama two months ago. It is, however, the first time she hasn’t been allowed to crawl into bed next to one of her friends in the aftermath.

The first time it had happened, on their way back from the job that had reminded her far too much of the one her dad had never come home from, Monty had lifted up the armrest dividing their seats and run his hands through her hair, whispering nursery rhymes and terrible jokes for the rest of the flight. Then it had happened again when she, Bellamy, and Octavia were lying low in a safe house. The Blake siblings, two of the most terrifying people she’d ever worked with, had shared one of their silent conversations over her head before putting a movie on, Octavia curling around her feet, and Bellamy repositioning her on the couch so he could braid her hair.

Since Wells and Bellamy had dragged their team out of the shadows by setting up Ariadne Inc. and going legit, and their team of misfit, emotionally unstable criminals had all moved into the brownstone she called home, Clarke hasn’t had a problem finding another bed to crawl into. Or finding a heartbeat she can listen to, and breathing patterns she can match, as she tries to fall back to sleep. But tonight she can’t. Octavia and Maya have taken Jasper with them on a job, Wells is in DC lying through his teeth to fix their most recent diplomatic problem (and really, it’s just as well Monty and Jasper are so good at covering their tracks, because if people got wind of just how many laws they were breaking not even Wells could sweet talk their way out of jail), and Monty and Miller are taking some much needed time off. Normally none of this would matter. But normally two of her best friends hadn’t just started sleeping together.

 

Clarke shuffles down the stairs and into the kitchen. She makes herself a cup of tea; pulling the blanket she brought down with her tighter around her shoulders. It shouldn’t matter, it really shouldn’t matter, that Bellamy and Raven have finally sorted themselves out. She could have told them months ago that they were being silly making eyes at each other but not doing anything about it if she’d thought either of them would listen. By all rights she should be properly happy for them. Two of her best friends are happy. They are happy, right now, curled around each other in the middle of Bellamy’s bed (she absolutely looked on her way downstairs; she’s a spy. Spying is what she does). She _loves_ them. But maybe that’s the problem.

She rubs the sleep out of her eyes, groaning at her own bad timing. She can just imagine what Wells would say if she called him right now. After the initial “you do realise what time it is, don’t you Clarke?” he’d make a quip about her time management skills never being a weak point before, with a smug ‘I told you so’ tone of voice. She really needs to meet new people.

 

“Clarke?” Raven croaks from the bottom of the stairs. Clarke can see her reflection in the dark window. She doesn’t even need to turn around to see just how devastating the other girl looks wearing nothing but one of Bellamy’s old t shirts, hair mussed, but nothing like the bird’s nest Clarke ends up with after ever two seconds of contact with a pillow. She bites her lip, trying to control her _super inappropriate for the current situation_ thoughts, and turns around.

“I didn’t wake you did I? I’m really so-“ Clarke breaks off as Raven shakes her head.

“No. I got up for the bathroom and saw the lights on.” Raven walks closer, slowly, like she’s trying not to spook Clarke. She’s not sure if she’s grateful or embarrassed that the gesture seems necessary. “Are you okay?” Clarke swallows down her instinctive ‘yes’ when Raven gets close enough to wipe away the slowly drying tears marking her face.

“Bad dream.”

“Oh babe,” Raven closes the distance between them, pulling Clarke in with her blanket. Clarke drops her forehead to Raven’s shoulder; burrows in until all she can smell is Raven and all she can see is the slightly blurry outline of her collarbone. Raven makes a soft sympathetic sound, rubbing circles on Clarke’s back. “What are you doing in the kitchen? Don’t you usually crawl into bed with us while attempting to pretend that physical contact means nothing to you, and you are in fact not the world’s biggest cuddle thief?” Clarke snorts, and pulls back, too aware of the fresh tears, and possible snot trail she’s leaving on Raven’s shoulder.

“I didn’t want to interrupt …” she says awkwardly, gesturing to Bellamy’s t shirt and in his bedroom’s general direction. Raven’s smile could light up the kitchen.

“Griffin, it’s not interrupting if I drag you bodily upstairs and force you into bed.” She pauses before adding as hesitantly as Raven Reyes can manage, “If you think it’ll help.” Clarke breathes out slowly, smiling soggily, and nods.

“It’s just about the only thing that does at the moment.” She shakes her head slightly, unused to being so honest. But there’s something about the quiet emptiness of the house and Raven’s smile that makes her weaknesses seem less scary. She lets Raven guide her upstairs muttering about ‘internationally renowned criminal masterminds who’d freeze to death in their own homes if left to their own devices’.  Clarke still wants to burst into tears again, and she can’t get the gunshots out of her head, but she’s self aware enough to know that she’s stupid over her best friend.

 

Raven flicks off the lights in the bathroom and on the landing, tugging Clarke behind her like she’s afraid she’ll wander off without direction. She takes the blanket off Clarke’s shoulders, gently placing it on Bellamy’s desk. Turning back she cups Clarke’s cheeks in her hands and kisses her sweetly between her eyes and then on the tip of her nose.

“I love you, you know,” she whispers. And Clarke does, or at least she thought she did. But the way Raven says it - not a throw away line when Clarke shares her food, or a team encompassing we all nearly died reminder - makes her think that maybe she missed something when she was watching Bellamy and Raven watch each other. Maybe when she turned away she missed them watching her. Clarke can’t find the words to respond. Not the right words anyway. So she throws herself into Raven’s arms again, clinging tightly as the force of her hug knocks them onto the bed.

The movement wakes Bellamy, in as much as Bellamy can be woken at three in the morning. He groans, his hand stretching out across the mattress. His brow furrows, eyes still closed, but there’s no mistaking the confusion at the lack of another body.

“Reyes?” He yawns, blinking slowly. Both Clarke and Raven smile fondly, before grinning at each other when they notice the matching expressions. It feels so easy being here with both of them.

“I’m right here doofus,” she crawls up from the end of the bed and ruffles his hair before kissing him. “We’re going to cuddle the fuck out of Clarke now, okay?”

“Is she alright?” Bellamy asks his pillow. Then he lifts his head. “Are you alright?” And at this point in their relationship she doubts she needs to vocalise anything. He takes one look at her face, darts a quick glance in Raven’s direction, and nods. “Scooch over,” he says, pulling the covers back. Raven pulls Clarke up the bed, directing her so she ends up with her head on Bellamy’s chest, with Raven pressed up against her back.

“Good?” Clarke nods in agreement, snuggling further into the chaos of arms and legs. “Good.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Bellamy asks. He has one arm slung across her shoulder, holding onto Raven. She should feel boxed in, no quick and easy escape route. Instead she feels… safe.

Her reply, “in the morning,” is muffled against his shirt. Clarke falls asleep with Raven pressing kisses into her hair and listening to the reassuring beat of Bellamy’s heart.

 

 


End file.
